


I don't even like ducks

by Notawriterjustalurker



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: College, Drinking, First Kiss, Flirting, Humor, M/M, POV Foggy Nelson, closeted Foggy Nelson, face touching, not for long though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27995505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notawriterjustalurker/pseuds/Notawriterjustalurker
Summary: Yeah sure, Murdock's a good looking guyFoggy's straight, not blind.Spoiler: Foggy is not straight
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 136





	I don't even like ducks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wawalux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wawalux/gifts).



> So I decided to write my first ever Mattfoggy fic (my first ever m/m fic too, actually) and I'm gifting it to wawalux because her mattfoggy is so cute it inspired me. 
> 
> Plus we were robbed of college flashbacks!! I need more collage flashbacks!! 😂 So anyway, here we are

So far, the plan's working.

Two females of the species — 3 o'clock. They've made eye contact, _lingering_ eye contact, two whole times. And they're hot. Really hot.

"Alrighty," Foggy finally rubs his hands together because he's ready. "Watch and learn buddy," his eyebrow wiggle punctuates his confidence.

And of course: it's only _after_ he slides off his bar stool that he remembers:

Matt can't _watch_ and learn anything. But whatever, Foggy rolls with it anyway — he's good at that — putting the proverbial foot in his mouth, and just, you know, rolling with it. It's part of his charm. 

Speaking of charm —

"Good evening ladies." He sucks his stomach in and leans one elbow on the table, hearing a snort of suppressed laughter hissing through Matt's nostrils somewhere in the background.

But Rebecca, the hot brunette that Foggy told Matt he should keep his eye on (if he had working eyes) replies with a smile that Foggy recognises as vaguely approachable.

A green light, then?

"Franklin," he introduces himself, holding out his hand, "Foggy for short. And this my good friend Matt, or — well, just Matt," he points over his shoulder (that's how it always starts) and they glance to where Matt is poised effortlessly on a stool — a wounded duck, in a leather jacket — the girls immediately soften at the sight of him.

"Tell him to come over," one of them says, whispering. 

Foggy whispers back: "he's not deaf." And they both giggle. He should probably stop making jokes about Matt. "We're in, buddy! Get your tight butt over here!" Matt shakes his head and then slips off his stool too, joining them at the table.

"So uh, what are you studying Matt?" The other girl, Alice — Foggy knows her name because he overheard her coffee order one time (he wasn't stalking) — directs her question at Matt. Great, so now both of them are looking at Matt. 

And he's charmingly coy as usual, courteous and polite, fiddling with his glasses before he mumbles out: "Oh uh, law." 

Just, law, like they're not going to be impressed. 

"Wow," they both say in unison. "Law at Columbia? And you too, uh… Foggy? Is it?"

Finally some acknowledgement. 

"Yes!," Foggy's going to milk this, "and _this_ , this right here —" he waves a hand between him and Matt, "this is the dream team. The best damn —" he pauses and changes his mind about the avocado thing, "the best damn law firm in New York City!"

Matt chuckles doubtfully, "we have to graduate first." He's such a negative Nancy.

"But _when_ we do, buddy, huh? See, I know it's hard to believe," Foggy turns to Alice sincerely, "but Matt here, he's actually the brains of the operation, I'm the beauty." Foggy whispers, "but I haven't told him that yet so, _shhush."_

Alice chortles into her drink.

"Anyway, _Foggy_ , enough about _us._ What about you two?" Matt puts his folded up cane on the table, "What are you both studying?" His voice is raspy like a jaguar purring inside a cello. Foggy's melting at the sound of it and he doesn't even swing that way. 

Rebecca giggles, "Forensic Psychology."

"Oh and uh, BioChem," Alice replies after. Foggy does enjoy a woman who knows her way around the periodic table; or at least, he does now.

Matt puts on his best 'wow' face, "hey fogs, are you uh, are you sure about this?" There's a playfulness in this voice like he'd be winking if he could. "These two sound…" he grins, "well, a little out of our league."

The brunette takes a long, lustrous look at Matt like maybe she's thinking about all the things she'd do with that cane of his that doesn't involve walking (not that Foggy's ever thought about that) then she takes a slurp from her nothing-left-but-ice drink and hums disappointingly — "that's a shame, it uh… it looks like I'm all out.." 

Who knew complimenting girls on their brains and not their looks could get them this far? Not that Matt's got all that many options.

  
  


~

A short time later, no, actually, quite a long time later, four rounds at least; they leave. Matt's a little tipsy, his smile's a little bigger, looser, and it's attracting girls like one of those insect zappers at restaurants except they're not dying on impact.

Foggy is though, when Matt exits the bar with a girl hooked around his arm — not because he's taking her home but because she's 'helping' him and Foggy wonders how offensive it would be if he told him to stop milking the blindness thing already. 

"I got her number for you," Matt slurs when taps his way over.

"I don't want it." He definitely does want it, he just wanted to earn it himself. 

"Don't be like that," Matt says, "I think she likes you."

Foggy perks up a bit, ignoring the pity he can sense in Matt's voice, "really?" snatching the napkin out of his hands before he can answer. "Fine, if you insist." He doesn't take much convincing.

~

It's late when they fall through the door of their room; lady-less but armed with napkins.

And the night's still young by student standards, which means there's a room temperature beer in both their hands before either of them gets a chance to remind the other that they're supposed to be studying all day tomorrow, and it's not going to be any easier with a hangover.

"How do you even do that?" Foggy's forgotten about the sacred napkin already — his beer's on top of it and the numbers are already smudged. 

Matt acts like he doesn't know what he's talking about. 

"Do what?"

" _That —_ "he gestures broadly to the room — _"I got her number for you,"_ he does his best deep-voiced Matt impression; he does the movements too even though they're pointless.

Matt shakes his head. "I don't know buddy. Maybe they take pity on me." 

Does this guy know that false modesty is a crime? 

Okay, it's not crime but 

"Pfft! Pity? Look at you! Look at those abs — _feel_ those abs —" It's true, Foggy's been lucky enough to spot them once or twice in their natural habitat, mainly when Matt forgets his towel after a shower and Foggy has to quite literally rescue his ass. Matt's got muscles in places Foggy didn't know existed.

"Alright maybe they don't," he smirks and admits it.

But that doesn't help at all.

"Y'know I did the math," Foggy takes a step forward except his foot doesn't land how he planned it and it turns into a stumble, leaving him in a heap on the end of Matt's bed.

"Math?" Matt asks, his hand coming out to feel for Foggy's shoulders 

"Yeah, like collectively, y'know, the math, like as a unit," he slurs, "me and you, with the duck thing. We're like a…. 9.6 outta 10." He pauses for effect. 

"At _least."_

"That's pretty high."

Yeah, cause Matt's like a 8.7.

"Well yeah, cause obviously I'm a 9."

"Of course," Matt agrees, but he can't really disagree, can he? 

Foggy puts his hand on Matt's knee for no reason at all. "And did you also know that avocados are an aphrodisiac?" 

"Aren't you thinking of shellfish?"

"Ew, no, avocados Matty, trust me." Foggy sits back and crunches something under his thigh. "Oh shit, is that your assignment I just sat on? It's got the feely bumps." Matt tips his head back and belly laughs — sometimes Foggy thinks that getting him to do that is like his superpower or something. 

The weight of Matt's head (his actual head, not his ego) pulls his body down backwards into the sheets.

Foggy lies back too, somehow ending up width ways with their legs hanging. It's not exactly comfortable, but he's okay with Matt being here, being this close, it's cool, his heads spinning anyway. He could fall asleep here. 

"You have nice lips," it slips out like he's bird-watching or observing some planes through a pair of binoculars or something. He's just admiring the landscape, and Foggy's good at putting the proverbial foot in his mouth. 

It's part of his charm.

He watches the pinkness in them fade when they stretch out into a wide, childishly disarming smile.

"Thanks." 

"You're welcome my friend," Foggy's drunkenness has faded into that heavy floating feeling now that he's still, like the inside of his head didn't get the memo that his body stopped moving a few minutes ago.

"They're just like, plump you know," he's still talking about Matt's lips. "Kissable."

"You've been looking at them a lot huh?" 

Foggy should have expected this.

"Pfftt. No… " he makes a gesture with his hands "they're just sort of _there."_ Foggy's eyes brave a quick flicker to where he knows Matt's face is hovering and he finds him biting said lip, it's kind of hot.

Like, objectively.

"Well sorry for distracting you." He doesn't mean that, Foggy can tell.

"You don't mean that."

He chuckles, "no I don't.' Just as Foggy suspected, he doesn't mean that at all. Which means he knows exactly what he's doing when he's walking around all helpless and handsome and duck-like.

"I appreciate it," Matt says, his eyes are drooping slightly because he's tired. He does that when he's studying too. "The compliment I mean. And I'm not,.." he chuckles to himself, "I'm not offended."

And shit, of course he's not, because Matt's a nice guy, and lots of guys probably like Matt that way.

"I'm just sorry I can't pay it back." Matt looks a little sad, like how a puppy looks when you leave them alone in the house too long. "I'd like to," he says.

"Ahhh I know this part!" Foggy wags his finger accusingly, "this is when you get your scheming little mittens on their face isn't it?"

Matt laughs, "you think that's what I do?"

"That _is_ what you do!" 

"I mean, not without their permission Foggy — that'd be a little cree —"

Foggy's touching his own face, "feel me like one of your french girls Matty." 

That's when his glasses have to come off because he's laughing so hard his peepers are leaking. "Well I never get any complaints," he smiles mischievously.

And no, Foggy's not surprised, actually, he thinks it's kinda sweet but he also likes the safety of Matt not quite knowing what he looks like. He's never really been that confident about himself. 

"Okay fine. Do you worst Murdock," he sighs dramatically and relaxes back, Matt takes the invitation as it's intended.

"You want me to—"

"Yes! Get it over with already Mr touchy feely!"

And oh boy, there is something about Matt's touch that's different. Like when a butterfly lands on you and you freeze, stock still, thinking: 

I'm chosen. 

And then you think: Maybe if I never move, he'll never leave.

Because for some reason, you want the butterfly to like you. 

"Your hair is longer than I thought," Matt says, twirling a strand of it in his fingers.

Foggy opens his mouth but his voice comes out unexpectedly quiet. "You wouldn't know…but, it's actually a really hard look to pull off.."

Air streams out of Matt's nose, framing his perfectly careful laugh, "I don't doubt it." His hand moves down to Foggy's cheek, then his jaw, his fingertips lingering there like his mapping the shape of his face. "Beard?"

"Not a fan?"

"No it's uh, I like."

Foggy is not blushing, and at least Matt's not recoiling in disgust.

"So am I handsome?"

"I think so," his mouth curves lazily, shrugging as he lies flat again, "I'd kiss ya."

Itsajokeitsajoke. He's making a joke. 

"The highest of accolades from Mr Murdock then," Foggy's head turns in sheets to meet the pocket of warm air that's formed between their shoulders.

"Should I?" Matt smiles big, so big his eyes turn in crescent moons, lost amongst the other creases in his cheeks.

Foggy blows out dismissive puff of air, "I mean if you want," he doesn't even know why the words come out. Maybe he's hoping.

But Matt's all casual about it; shrugging even though he's laying down, like he's mentally saying 'fuck it.' 

Then he leans in, or across, whatever, and his lips touch his. A jolt of something warm and fuzzy travels from the point of contact all the way down to Foggy's toes.

It feels, well… it feels nice. 

Matt creeps forward and tilts his head into the mattress; that gets him a little closer and it's just right, slow and soft.

The tip of his tongue darts out like he can't help himself, leaving just enough moisture between their mouths to stick them together before they pull apart, dissolving only when Matt smiles and Foggy feels their teeth clink.

"Okay…" Foggy breathes. His hearts making a fuss over this; pounding on the inside of his chest. 

"Okay?" Matt sounds like he's asking.

"We just kissed." Foggy's...um, kind of speechless actually.

"Yeah," Matt whispers.

"Uh, I uh.."

"It's okay Fogs." Foggy stills his fidgeting, thinking that maybe Matt can sense that he's freaking out. "Don't think too much into it," Matt says and that isn't helping because he sounds surprisingly unperturbed by this whole situation and Foggy starts to think he's done this before.

Do the Murdock moves work on men too? 

Apparently yes. 

"I'm fine," Foggy eventually says as he heaves himself half way up — "that was — _fine_ ", he tries to get further but no, that ways too hard — his body's too heavy, he's gone all tingly.

He collapses back down again. "Phew. We're pretty drunk huh?"

Matt agrees, "yeah. Yeah, we're pretty drunk. Maybe we should..um, maybe we should sleep."

"Yeah, sleep. Sleep good, right?" This is awkward, and maybe something else too. All Foggy knows is that he's not going to be able to sleep at all. 

"Sleep good." Matt smiles softly and shuffles his way up the bed as Foggy manages to get to his own, even though it seems like a marathon away.

"Hey Fogs?" Matt's voice is laced with something that sounds like concern, "actually, uh, it's nothing. Nevermind, erm.. " he covers himself with the duvet and Foggy throws himself ungracefully right on top of his. "Goodnight buddy." 

"Goodnight, Matt," Foggy smiles, and hopes, that maybe, they'll talk about it in the morning.

  
  
  
  



End file.
